The Glass Gargoyle (The Lost Ancients Book 1)

by Marie Andreas

  The stairwell bottomed out in a wide flat place. Straight ahead was a dark hallway, the door not completely cleared but enough to make me start drooling. Glimmers of gold flashed dirtily in the light. The items were obviously filthy, still buried in the dirt and muck that had cascaded through the ruins eons ago. But still there and calling to me. Now don’t get me wrong, I love wealth as much as the next citizen of Beccia, but what those pieces could be, what they represented to the archeological world— that was where my real motivation lay.

  Just as we were stepping forward, a bright blur darted around us, zipping around the newly cleared cavern. I started to swear, clearly one of the girls had given up on their assault on the squirrel family and followed me. Until the tiny being held still long enough for me to make out their color, a clear, shimmering purple. And unlike the overalls usually worn by my girls, this little one wore a tunic made of leaves and vines. She did carry a stout stick that while more primitive than the girls’ pitchforks, still made a similar statement.

  Hovering in midair, she seemed torn between Thaddeus and I and the treasure in the room behind her.

  “Is she one of yours?”

  Someone had told my new boss about the girls.

  “No, she is not,” I said. I carefully reached out with an open palm. “Move slowly. Do you have anything sweet on you?”

  I expected him to say no, but he carefully felt around in his pocket until he came out with a lump of rock sugar.

  “Will this do?”

  Taking the sweet, I placed it on my open hand and cooed softly to the faery. Wild faeries were rare, and most scholars, not that there were many who studied the little things, agreed that they might all be domesticated to some degree by now. Tiny, migratory, magical beings were not easy to build theories on. I think most people were just happy when they left.

  But this was a wild one—she wasn’t used to being around big ones, as the girls used to call me. She did however have the never-ending need for sweets that apparently was common to all faeries wild or not.

  “Here, little one. It’s ok.” I stretched my hand out as far as I could, trying to disassociate the hand with the two tall beings standing before her.

  Tiny purple-hued eyes weighed the situation carefully, darting between the candy and myself. She would decide to ignore Thaddeus for the time being. When the glances to the sweet were longer than the ones on me, I knew she made up her mind.

  In a streak of color, she zipped forward and snatched the candy. I figured she would flee out of the dig site with her prize, but she just stayed hovering. Keeping her eyes on me, she took an experimental lick of the sugar, quickly followed by a dozen more. Judging by the smile she was fighting to keep off her tiny heart-shaped face, I knew she liked it.

  Holding the sweet was difficult with one hand, so maybe that was why she laid down her stick in the palm of my still outstretched hand. Or maybe she felt it was a trade. Whichever reason, she patted the stick gently, then nodded, and chattered something in faery at me. Then clutching the sweet in both tiny hands, she zipped out of the dig site.

  “That was amazing.” Thaddeus finally said after a few moments of silence.

  I had to agree with him. I know I never thought I’d see a wild one. I folded my fingers around the stick she left in trade. It may seem like just a stick to me, but it meant something to her. I’d keep it and see if my girls could tell me anything from it.

  “I didn’t know there were any wild faeries, let alone that they were here. How very exciting.” Thaddeus looked ready to go back out to see if he could find her.

  “There aren’t any here, at least as long as I’ve lived in Beccia. My faeries came from a neighboring town; they’ve always lived in cities.”

  “What an exciting start to our dig, yes?” Beaming, Thaddeus shook off his interest in the wild faery and resumed leading me into the dig.

  Today he just wanted us to work on getting past the doorway. While our tiny visitor could have gotten through, few others could fit. Plus, he wisely agreed with my assessment that no one should enter until the doorway was completely cleared away. While it appeared the doorway had been blocked by the ruins, it could also be booby trapped. More than one careless digger had found out the hard way that whoever the elves were, they left surprises for those who followed. Or some beings that lived in the ruins after them did.

  The work was tiring and filthy. This cavern had only been open to the light of day for three days in the last thousand years. And the inside didn’t seem to be very gracious about the outside trying to come in.

  The artifacts inside glimmered weakly through the dust and dirt, just enough detail to tease me but not enough to tell me what kind of chamber we were in front of.

  Not much had been found about the elvish society. Mostly mismatched art objects, a few wooden masks of what looked like human faces with leaves, vines, and horns on them that may have indicated a nature worshipping culture. But no intact rooms that would give a clear view of their world.

  The mud and wood filling the doorway was a combination of the wooden thousand year-old original door and the mud, debris, and trash washed through as the ruins had sunk over the centuries.

  The rest of the afternoon was spent trying to carefully clear the way around the doorway.

  I finished my first day back in my real job as the sun began to set. Being stuck out in the jungles at night was not a good idea even with increased security. We hadn’t found anything yet, were still days away from entering the room, but it still felt good to get jungle dirt under my nails again.

  I’d forgotten about my mysterious archer until Thaddeus and I were halfway back to the front of the ruins.

  “Whatever is wrong?” he said turning back to me.

  I must have stiffened when I thought about the arrow, then I looked down, surprised to find out I’d actually stopped. On the ground before me lay a bit of black feather. There was no sign of an arrow, and it may have fallen off a passing bird. But just in case it was important, I picked it up and pocketed it before Thaddeus noticed.

  I shook my head and resumed following him. Not that a four-foot-high dwarf would be a great deterrent if someone decided to fling more arrows at me, but maybe they’d think twice about it. As long as they hadn’t been shooting at me because of him.

  But the gods or someone was on my side, we made it out without any harassment.

  “I shall see you in the morning then.” Thaddeus bowed, an old-fashioned courtly gesture that somehow fit even in the jungle ruins.

  Saying my good nights to him and the two guards slouching in the front of the dig, I started to go for the Shimmering Dewdrop. Then looked down. I was filthy. Normally I wouldn’t mind, but I had to admit the recent male attention had started to make me change my ways. Not that I would get fancied up, even if I had anything to wear. But I could at least show up clean. Besides, I wanted to leave the wild faery’s stick and the black feather some place safe.

  Perhaps I was becoming paranoid, but I refused to think anything that happened was not attached to something else equally disastrous in my life.

  The girls weren’t back yet, so I showered and changed, then made sure to leave their tube above my door open. I wasn’t planning on a long night, but you never knew. And having the girls trying to come find me could be a disaster after their last pub appearance.

  The pub was busy, but not boisterous.

  I was halfway through my dinner when Harlan showed up.

  He held up a thick finger to catch the waitress’s eye for a meal and ale, then plopped down in the chair across from me. He never seemed to notice the chairs groaning when he did that.

  “I say, how was your first day back at work?” he managed to get out before draining half of his ale in one gulp. The light level of dust coating his clothing and fur told me he’d not gone home first to change. How he and I could do the same job, I had no idea. I looked at a dig and I got dirty.

  “Interesting.” I nodded around a bite of food
as his eyes went round. “Not the dig, I mean it’s fine. But we were visited by a wild faery.” I wanted to tell him about the arrows too, but not in a crowded pub. If someone was trying to kill me, I didn’t want them hearing about me possibly having part of one of their arrows.

  “You mean one of the travelers?” He smiled at the waitress as she put down a heaping pile of food. I’d noticed that Dogmaela wasn’t in. Clearly I wasn’t the only one who had noticed her growing condition. Too bad. I liked that she usually had my back.

  I waited until the frowsy blonde sashayed away. “No, a wild one.” I kept my voice low. I suddenly didn’t want anyone other than Harlan to know about her. “She was in the dig checking things out. Completely wild.”

  He pursed his lips and began a low purr. “Really? What color?”

  “Purple, and yes, really wild. As in, no she can’t come live with you.”

  He waved a hand. “I don’t need one of my own. I have yours. It’s just that cute kitten down on 55th is doing her studies in faeries…”

  I went back to my ale. “You do not need another wife Harlan.” I didn’t want to spend the night listening to him nattering on about yet another wife. Chatalings often had ten or twelve spouses. Most of his wives had other husbands as well. But he could become obsessive while stalking a new one. Although with all of the weirdness in my life lately, maybe I needed something normal and annoying instead of deadly and annoying.

  “Hhrmph.” He ruffled out the fur on his chest. “Just because I wish to help a fellow academic doesn’t mean I am scouting for a new wife. You always think the worst of me.” He held his injured air, staring above my head for a good ten seconds, then dropped back to my face.

  “I forgive you however. Do tell, did the faery say anything? I have wondered what a wild one would sound like since they mutilate their language to speak to us.”

  I thought about my level of communication with my domesticated faeries and choked in a snort. I knew cheeses that were easier to understand than the faeries most times. “No, she did give me a stick in exchange for some candy. I figured I’d ask the girls about it when they came home.”

  “A wild faery war stick?” Harlan’s eyes went round. “You must show me.” He started to get up, but I wasn’t done eating yet.

  “It’s a stick. About three inches long from what I’m sure is a common local tree. A stick, Harlan. I’m not skipping dinner for a stick.” I looked around for the waitress. I couldn’t call her name, she must be new. “And I need at least two more ales.”

  Harlan got excited about the oddest things some times. He rattled on about the nuances of faery war sticks for a good two minutes before I finally spotted the waitress and flagged her down.

  “Yes, well, isn’t that fascinating.” I said after a long pull on my fresh glass of ale. “But I have something even more interesting, since we’re talking about faeries. Alric has done something to them to make them adore him. And I don’t even think he gave them sugar.”

  Having successfully captured Harlan’s attention, I briefly recounted an edited version of the previous night. I didn’t mention the body however, nor what I had been doing prior to the finding of the body. If he knew I’d almost slept with the man he’d tried to set me up with I’d never hear the end of it.

  Talking to Harlan reminded me that I also needed to update Covey. My original intention had been to try and forget about it all for a few days. Go to work every morning, lead a normal life. But the arrow today told me that wasn’t going to happen.

  “So they obey him? Without sweets?” The intent look on his feline face told me I might have made an error in telling Harlan about the girls’ new crush. But he didn’t seem to be jealous, it was more like he was envying a gift.

  “Just how much time have you been spending with that kitten down on 55th Street?” Harlan loved the faeries, but he’d never been this interested in them before.

  “Not much, you are always thinking the worst of people, Taryn.” He didn’t even bother with a ruffled fur this time. “I just think it’s curious that he could do that. Especially after the way they had been reacting to him. And obviously you think so too or you wouldn’t have told me.” He took a self-satisfied sip of his light ale.

  He had me there. I did tell him to get some insight, I just wasn’t planning on the level of his interest.

  “I have no idea what he did.” I shoveled the last of my meal in and swallowed. “It started not long after I found Alric beat up and dragged him back to my place.” I wasn’t planning on telling him about that, but I felt bad about him and the faeries.

  I should have just let him feel bad about the faeries. While what I really wanted to do was finish my last ale and crawl into bed, what I got to do was spend the next hour filling Harlan in on as many details as I felt safe about the last few days. Unfortunately, the ability to judiciously edit wasn’t strong after three ales, and I know I let loose more than I wanted.

  Finally I’d told him all I could, or rather, all I would.

  “Look, unless you have some amazing way of making sense of all of this, I really need to go to bed. I need to get back into the swing of things and that means not being late for work tomorrow, which means getting to bed tonight.”

  “But I still have some questions…” Harlan let his voice trail off when I gave him my best glare. It wasn’t one I used often, but I was tired.

  “Can you put all the pieces together?” He gave me a sheepish look, puffing out his upper lip and whiskers to do so. “I didn’t think so. When you can, we’ll talk again.” I got to my feet, using a handy chair for support, and said goodnight.

  He was still lost in thought, or maybe he was trying to figure out if his wives would miss him if he went to visit that kitten on 55th, or else I’m sure Harlan would have noticed that I was listing far more than I should be after only three ales. I noticed it but just wanted to get home.

  Unfortunately, the two tall, dark, and ginormous gents who grabbed me as I left the Dewdrop had noticed it as well.

  Chapter 25

  I had enough time to smell brimstone before four vises gripped onto my upper arms. Even if I hadn’t been groggy from ale, I wouldn’t have been able to fight them off. But I would have had enough sense to scream before the goon on the left stuffed a dusty rag in my mouth. I spun as well as I could, hoping to twist free to at least get the rag out. But the slab of meat on my right dropped a bag over my head. A spell bag. My fogged mind had enough coherence to realize what it was right before the lights went out.

  ***

  “She’s waking up.”

  I heard the rumbly voice before my mind could process the words. But it was deep, low, and dirty. Not crude dirty, but it just sounded as if the speaker had a mouthful of dirt and a few rocks when he spoke. The accent was odd too. Common Beccian wasn’t his native tongue by a long shot.

  “Give ‘er another ‘it then.”

  This voice was even lower and it took me even longer to process the words. When I did, it was all I could do to keep my breathing slow and my eyes shut. If someone was going to hit me again once I woke up it was in my best interests to not wake up.

  On the plus side, neither voice was Alric.

  Boulders clomped toward where I lay. “Yous idiot sallenthras.” That word didn’t come in clear at all, I had to assume either my brain had given up or he was speaking his native. I had no idea rocks had a native tongue. “The boss wants her awake. Quit knocking her out, glottherins.”

  A rustle of more boulders told me one of the other two took offense to whatever those two terms were. “Glackthian frillo.” The second voice yelled before either being swallowed by a small avalanche, or getting into a fist fight with the third voice. My body bounced as the two creatures threw each other around. Taking a chance, I went ahead and squinted one eye open. Beccia was a melting pot, far more so than any town in the kingdom, but I didn’t recognize the accents or the swear words. I hadn’t seen much when they grabbed me.

  Luck
ily for me the instant I peeked, the third voice smashed the first voice into the ground. Literally. There was now a deep divot three-feet from me in the rock floor. The scent of brimstone drifted my way and the cave we were in rumbled. Which was good because I’m sure my scream went unheard when I saw who had grabbed me. Three syclarions. Well, two if the one smashed into the ground didn’t get back up.

  I found myself wishing Alric would do his annoying habit of popping up right now. No matter how hard I wished for it, there was no smug-sounding pretty man barreling in to save me. Not that even he could do much against a pair of syclarions.

  Letting out another breath to try and slow my heart, I cracked open my other eye. Yep, two of them, looking down at the third who still hadn’t moved. They were far cruder than the one I had seen in the ruins in both looks and speech. I had always heard that syclarions were an elite race, but obviously they had cast offs and thugs just like every other race.

  Before the one in the ruins, I’d only seen one in drawings, but these looked far more solid and blunt than the images I’d seen.

  “I knows you awake, girly.” The first pile of reptilian-covered boulders said as he lumbered closer. He poked an inch-wide finger into my side. Luckily his claws were blunt. “Boss want to know why you shoot at us.”

  “Boss is going to use you skin as rag if you keep talking.” The third, and obviously more aggressive judging by the still form he stepped over, syclarion said as he smacked the one next to me.

  “I may have to dispose of both of you and that will not make me happy.” The voice came out of the dark corner behind the others, but the body didn’t follow. “Forgive my employees, they are rather uncouth.”

  Absolute terror froze my heart as I tried to keep my face still. I knew that voice. It was the voice of the syclarion I had heard at the dig a few days ago. The one who had butchered his foreman and possibly Perallan’s former digger.